Bittersweet
by siriuslybritish
Summary: Life for Margad is...decent. But not good enough. She wants a say in things for once, but it doesn't look like that will happen...That is, until Artie comes along. Suddenly, Margad is whisked away into an unfamiliar world with seemingly familiar people...yet they're all so different than before. Life is always a little Bittersweet, but sometimes that can be absolutely perfect. (P2!
1. Prologue

**A/N- Here it is. My Hetalia fanfiction. *Hetalia opening song plays***

**I hope you like it! I've worked pretty hard. I'll update whenever I can! :)**

**_Note: This is in the world of P2._**

Prologue-

Every country was bickering at each other, as usual. That's, like, the thing to do at World meetings, lately. I watched as Alfred spoke freely about getting a giant hero to stop Global Warming. Meanwhile, every other country was saying something completely different. Nothing to do with Global Warming. The only quiet one in the room was Greece, who was sleeping.

Right, we obviously shouldn't be talking about Economics or anything like that.

I sighed and dropped my forehead to the table. That's when I felt someone playing with my hair.

I looked up to see France, who winked and blew a kiss to me. I clicked my tongue in discomfort.

I'll admit it, France is very good-looking, but I don't necessarily like him.

He's a pervert.

Anyways, I actually think that most of the countries are good-looking- even Canada is adorable, to me! Is it wrong to think that, though? I mean, what am I supposed to do when World Meetings turn to this? Just sit there and _not_ look at all these guys?

"Guys?" I said. "Guys." No one bothered to listen, once again. So I only did what was needed. "GUYS!" I yelled.

The whole room went quiet and everyone looked at me, surprised.

"Margad Felix, what have I told you about using your manners? It's not very lady-like to shout indoors!" England nagged at me. America patted his back- which was actually excessive slapping- and laughed.

"Aw, lighten up, bro! I.M. never gets to speak! What's up, dudette?" America asked, his ocean blue eyes sparkling from behind his glasses.

"Aren't we supposed to be discussing- you know- worldly problems, love?" I asked America.

"Yeah, we already are! We're gonna get a giant hero who will stop global warming forever!" America said happily, one fist flying into the air.

"Alfred, how many times must I tell you that a giant hero can't stop global warming?" England sighed.

"Oh! England! How could you deprive him of his own imagination, no?" France sighed dramatically.

"Wha-" England was cut off by France.

"Our little America!" he exclaimed, suddenly standing beside America and pinching his cheek.

"Dude…" America tried to say awkwardly.

"YOU BLOODY LITTLE FROG! 'OUR'? GET THE DEVIL AWAY FROM HIM!" England yelled. France only made it worse by chanting some kind of song and continued to pinch America's cheeks.

The rest of the countries went back to arguing over nonsense, and once again my voice would go unheard as usual.

I stood up and pushed my chair in, then headed to the Lady's Bathroom in the hallway.

I walked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.

I was tired of being one of the lesser countries and never being able to have anyone actually listen to what I need to say. I'm not forgotten about like Canada; everyone knows I'm there and we talk like normal people on a normal day. And then it comes to the category of important things, which World Meetings like _these_ must fall under, and I'm either laughed at or ignored or something. And a lot of times, some of the countries just talk to me either because they think I'm _'smokin' hot'_ (says America) or something like that.

It's like my personality doesn't even matter to anyone!

I'm the type of girl who's very well-put together. The kind of girl who also suppresses her feelings and can't express or rid her anger and stress; and who isn't as bold as she puts herself up to be. When I get out of bed in the morning, I feel like I'm going to explode…too many feelings in such little space!

I leaned towards the bathroom mirror and looked at myself.

I don't look like anything special, I don't think. I have blue eyes like Canada and America and long, thick black hair with a few locks pulled back with a pastel pink bow.

I do happen to have a pleasing fashion sense, though. I wore a pastel pink sweater that fitted nicely with a black peter pan collar. I paired the sweater with a pair of skinny jeans and classic black heels. If I needed a jacket, then I'd pick my favorite: a powder blue pea coat. I'm very into brighter softer colors, but I do like dull ones, sometimes.

I frowned. There's nothing special about me but my looks. And I don't even think I'm pretty anyways. I just feel so worthless.

"I wish I could get away from all this…" I sighed to myself, looking in the mirror. "I'm tired of being unheard and just liked for my looks." I started to fix my bow, but my hands quickly fell to my sides as the edges of the bathroom mirror started to glow. I took a few steps back until my back was pressed against one of the stalls.

"What..?" I quietly whispered to myself in awe. The whole mirror by now was glowing purple and blue and white and all sorts of colors all at once. I panicked and tried to get out, but the door was locked, somehow, and it doesn't lock form the inside, so there was no escaping whatever I might meet.

It would probably be my death.

"Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap." I said, pushing myself back into the stall even more. I was too frightened to get inside the stall- or even move, that is.

I watched, my eyes wide, as a hand- yes, a hand, came out of the mirror. It wasn't floating in mid-air or anything; it was sticking out of the mirror, attached to an arm. And then suddenly, another hand came out, and finally the upper half of a man came out.

He had a strong resemblance to England- actually, I think it was England. However, this England was a little…different. His eyes were a swirled mess of pink and blue. He wore a light pink button up shirt under a purple knitted sweater vest. A bow tie accompanied the collar of his button up shirt. His hair was strawberry blonde, instead of honey blonde.

He smiled at me, reminding me of the Cheshire cat from Lewis Carroll's 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'.

"Hello, poppet! I'm Artie Kirkland! I heard of your problems, love. You want be heard for once and liked for who you really are, don't you?" he asked, his creepy grin oddly plastered on his face. In fear, I shook my head yes.

"Well then, today is your lucky day! Oh! We'll have so much fun, love! Take my hand, and I can take you to a place where you'll be heard for once! You'll be liked for who you are, too, dear! And best of all, you can try my cupcakes! In fact, I've made a batch for you already, poppet!" he said, holding his hand out farther for me to take it. My brain was screaming no, but my heart was aching for me to take his hand. I bit my bottom lip and he waited silently with his strange grin, his hand still extended. I took a step closer.

"If I take your hand, Artie, will I be able to come back here?" I asked.

"I don't think you'd want to come back here, love! Why, there's hardly any color in this toiletry!" he said.

I raised my hand to point at him, but I suppose he took the message wrong. He grabbed my hand, and I was suddenly pulled through the mirror with ease.

After a strange floating sensation, I opened my eyes to find myself in a brightly-colored house. Seriously, the walls were pink and the carpet was pale blue, almost white. The kitchen appliances were all sorts of different colors, like green and pink and blue and purple. If something wasn't already colored, it would have some kind of accessory that was colored. Neon colors dotted around the home, too.

I was immediately pushed backwards and landed on a plush purple couch and a cupcake was shoved in my face. I took it gently and stared at it for a moment. It was strawberry with blue icing, and I could just barely smell cotton candy.

"Well, love, go ahead! Take a bite!" Artie said, wiping his hands off with an embroidered dish towel. His grin stayed on his face the whole time, and I assumed it wasn't going anywhere.

I slowly took a bite and I could have died from the amazing taste. The cupcake melted in my mouth and it was just heavenly!

"These are…These are the best cupcakes I've ever had in my life, Artie!" I said, shoving the rest in my mouth. All I could taste was the icing, but still- they were amazing!

"I'm so glad you like them, poppet!" he said. As soon as the echo of his voice left my head, a weird taste started to fill my mouth. It tasted kind of like iron…or copper. And then suddenly the world around me started to spin. I couldn't see straight what so ever, and most everything was doubled or even tripled. It started to get really hot and my body was tingling with cold prickles.

"I put in a few special ingredients just for you, dear!" I heard Artie say cheerfully, just before my whole body went numb and everything went black.

**A/N- Well? How was it? :) Leave me a Review and tell me what you think! Thanks, love! Chapter 2 coming soon. **


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N- Here's Chapter One! Enjoy! It's a little short...but don't worry, they're about to get way better!**

_**Note: This is in the world of P2.**_

Chapter One-

I awoke with a start and sat up quickly. There was a strange fragrance drifting around that made me very dizzy and lightheaded…kind of like I was drunk. However, I was able to think clearly.

I rubbed my eyes and took a look at what was around me. There was lots of pink- so I was still in Artie's house. To my left was a bathroom, and to my right was a closet. There was a wooden desk beside a window and a plush chair in the left corner beside the bed. The floor was carpeted, though there was a fuzzy purple rug in front of the bed.

I furrowed my brows and threw the silk sheets on the bed off of me- they were rubbing against my jeans uncomfortably- and threw my feet over the side of the bed.

I tapped my toes to a pair of brown boots, and I had a strange feeling that they were mine. I put the military style boots on and laced them up, finding that they fit perfectly.

I stood up, slightly wobbly, and made my way to the bathroom.

I did my business and washed my hands and all that god stuff. While I was washing my hands, I was surprised to look up and see myself in a plain long-sleeved grey shirt instead of the sweater I had been wearing. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a grey ribbon and the short locks that I had originally pulled back with a bow were down. What surprised me the most were my eyes: they were red. Like a fire truck. Or blood.

Feeling very uncomfortable- since there was a chance, in fact, that Artie had undressed me and dressed me again- I stumbled out of the bathroom quickly. Occasionally my vision would double, and I could feel my brain rattling in my head. Not to say that I was stupid or anything- I mean, I'm probably smarter than Iggy anyways.

But wait…Since when did I call England Iggy?

I thought that I was about to faint, so I sat down in the plush chair. My whole body sank into it, and a leather jacket fell to the floor. I leaned down and picked it up, noticing there was something on the back. Written in bold white letters, the back of the jacket said:

_I.M._

_Isle of Mann_

_1765_

It was definitely my jacket, no doubt about it. I slipped the black jacket on and sat there motionless for just a moment. Suddenly an unusual feeling came over me, and I couldn't stop this new feeling of… well, I don't know what to call it. Playfulness? Maybe. I felt like causing trouble…which was rare in my case.

Unknowingly, a devious smirk came to my lips. I stood up and dug around in a drawer, somehow knowing there was a pack of crayons inside. I pulled the single black crayon out of the box and headed back to the wall, where I drew a few inappropriate gestures, wrote some words I'm normally not accustomed to, and wrote my name in large, pretty cursive. I took a step back and looked at my work. Still smirking, I decided to draw a chibi picture of myself beside my name, drawing my new outfit and my new smirk too. In the back of my mind, I think, there was a part of me that couldn't believe that I had just drawn on a wall with a black crayon- and it wasn't even my own house I was doing this at- but the rest of me felt satisfied. I didn't understand, but I didn't care either. I made my way to the bathroom, connected to the bedroom, to even color the toilet.

After about fifteen minutes of marking random doodles all over the room, I dropped the crayon on the floor and emptied the pack on the floor. I made my way to the door.

"See how you like this, bloke." I mumbled.

I had to find Artie, and then maybe I could get out of here. He'd love my little surprise I left in the room.

I peeked my head out as I opened the door to see if the coast was clear. The fragrance only got a little worse as I made my way down the stairs, seeing that Artie was nowhere to be found.

I jumped off the last stair and suddenly felt something solid bounce against my rib cage. I opened my jacket and reached into the inside pocket, slightly scared. Inside was a gun. I wasn't sure what kind- it was just a spiffy-looking hand gun. Also, I found, there was a switch blade. Aren't those illegal or something? Or was that just in America?

That's when I heard the footsteps. I had shoved the gun and the knife into my pocket and had my hand wrapped around the doorknob when an already-bloody knife just barely missed my shoulder.

"Terrible me, I haven't had time to clean my cutlery. Where're you going, poppet?" Artie asked. I looked behind me to see that he had psychotic grin on and his eye colors were swirling, if possible.

I yanked open the door as he threw another knife and ran outside, not bothering to close the door behind me.

"Come back soon, love!" I heard Artie yell. I glanced behind me, which was a mistake because I ran into someone. I fell backwards and the other person stumbled but didn't fall.

"Yo, why're you running?" the guy I ran into asked angrily. I looked up to see America, whose eyes were also red like mine. His glasses were slightly tinted and rested on the lower bridge of his nose. He had a bat resting on his shoulder, full of spikey nails. I frowned and carefully stood up, keeping my distance. I didn't realize it, but my temper had built up just with him yelling at me. I wasn't playful anymore; I was

"Why're you standing in the street?" I scoffed. He gave me a disgusted look and grunted.

"Because I can, b****!" he said. I clenched my fists. We were both starting to get in each other's faces.

"So I can't run, jacka**?" I said angrily, poking him in the chest as hard as I could. He pushed me backwards, but not near as hard enough to make me fall, and laughed.

"I like a girl who can fight back." He said, waggling his eyebrows. "You just get out of Artie's?"

"Yeah. How'd you know?" I asked, slightly lowering my anger rate and relaxing a little.

"They all run out like that…" he paused and looked amused for a second. "Unless he kills 'em. You eat one of his cupcakes?"

"Yeah." I paused this time. "But that stuff doesn't matter. Where am I?"

"Earth, dumba**. Duh." He said. I rolled my eyes.

"Really? I had no clue. D***." I said, sarcasm dripping off my voice.

"Alright, alright, b****. You're in the world of Player2. You must be from the goody-two-shoes' world, huh? You don't seem like them, though. Then again, you don't seem like the usual hoes here." I ignored all the negative things he said and frowned.

"Player2? What's that? And goody-two-shoes? Huh?" I asked. He face-palmed himself.

"D***, your clueless. Player2. It's like the opposites of the people you know. Those are the goody-two-shoes. None of us here like 'em. Get it now? 'Cause I'm not saying all that again." He said, flexing with his bat.

I cocked a brow and nodded. I was surprised that I was taking the news as well as I did…

Somehow, it felt natural being here.

"So you're…Alfred?" I asked. He looked disgusted at the name of the normal America.

"It's Al." he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry." I apologized…though it didn't sound like I meant what I said.

"So you got a place to stay, or what?" Al asked. I laughed harshly.

"I obviously have a place to stay." I said sarcastically. Al raised his eyebrows. "I just got here, and I don't know anyone. What do you think?" I said, crossing my arms.

"Well, I guess you do have a place." Al paused and clicked his tongue. "The streets." With that, he turned on his heel and started to swagger away.

"Wait!" I screamed girlishly. He kept going, so ir an t catch up with him. "Al, wait! I'm sorry! I don't have a place to stay!"

Al stopped and smiled in satisfaction. He turned back towards me.

"I knew you'd need my help. Everyone does." I raised my eyebrows.

"Are you gonna help me out or not?"

"You can stay a couple nights at my house. But don't expect paradise. I don't live in the best part of town…and that's saying something, because this whole place is bad." Al said. "Follow me."

I followed Al down the street reluctantly, and I could only wonder where he lived and what it was like there. It can't be that bad...Can it?

**A/N- What do you think Al's house is going to be like? Leave me a review and tell me! :) **

**Also, enjoy this short conversation about the previous statement:**

**England: I see your begging for Reviews.**

**Me: I see you still can't cook.**

**England: ...**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N- Chapter two! :)**

_**Note: This is in the world of 2P.**_

_***Hetalia opening theme plays***_

Chapter Two-

"D*** it! You mean to tell me that you don't have any _other _f****** clothes?" Al yelled.

"Hey! It's not my fault! I just woke up here with the clothes on my back!" I yelled back. Al smirked evilly. I rolled my eyes.

We'd been getting on like this for the past hour I'd been here. Yelling at each other, but somehow knowing that this is how our newly formed friendship worked.

Al lived in an okay-looking home. It was an every-day house, run down on the outside. The grass needed to be cut badly, the garage door was open and stuck that way, and there was a piece of blue tarp taped to the inside of one window on the house (where he'd broken it one night).

The inside wasn't better than the outside, though. The house had carpet in every room but the bathroom and the kitchen. The whole house was unorganized and messy, especially the kitchen and living room, where as magazines, old pizza boxes, wrappers, and dirty dishes were everywhere. There wasn't any space on the kitchen counters or kitchen table, due to all the excessive junk laying around. A worn-out American flag hung over the stove in the kitchen, nailed to the wall.

My first thought when I entered the house? _Home is home._

Al and I were arranging my stay here and it wasn't going too well. The first thing he had brought up was pajamas, which I didn't have.

"Hmph." Al grunted. He stood there and frowned for a minute, which must have been his thinking face. "I'll be right back." He walked down the hall way leading from the kitchen and I leaned back on the two legs of the wooden kitchen chair I sat in.

Looking at the table, I noticed there were like a million carvings covering it. Most of them said Al, some said Brittany or Keisha or Naomi…or- well, there were just way too many names to count.

Al came back into the room and threw a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black pajama pants at me, which I caught with ease.

"Just wear those." Al said, plopping into the chair on the other side of the table in front of me.

"Thanks." I said, nodding my head once. He did the same.

"Yeah, whatever." Al paused, waving his hand. "So what was your name again?" he asked.

"Margad Felix." I laughed.

"_Margad_? What kind of name is _that_?" he asked. I rolled my eyes again.

"It's Manx." I said. He looked confused. "You know, from the isle of Man? Says it on my jacket..." I said.

"Really? I had no f****** idea." He said sarcastically. I growled.

"You looked confused!" I said, pointing at him.

"I've just never heard of a d*** name like that!" he yelled, rolling his eyes.

After we were over the case of my name, we went back to the topic of my stay.

"I'd let you sleep with me in my bed," Al winked. "But I have some company coming tonight." I made a disgusted face and Al laughed.

"Like I'd sleep with you anyways." I scoffed.

"You're obviously a virgin." Al smirked.

"You're obviously a f****** idiot." I countered evilly, crossing my arms. He raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, b****, don't get too prissy with me. I wouldn't want you to sleep in my bed anyways… I might catch those d*** female hormones." Al said, holding his hands up. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Anyways." I grumbled.

"Yeah, yeah. You gotta sleep on the f****** couch then. Which is fine, since it's my d*** house anyways." Al nodded. I raised one brow. "You can stay for a couple days. I'd let you stay longer, since I'm that f****** friendly, but I have an ordeal to worry about with the cops."

"So what do you suggest I do after _your great deal of generosity_?" I asked playfully. Al chuckled.

"I'll just call up my bro. Tell 'em I found some b**** who needs a place to stay for a while." Al shrugged.

"And you're a b****, too, who I also found, Al." I smiled warmly. He laughed. "What if this brother of yours doesn't let me stay?"

"Don't worry, he'll let you." He said all-knowingly.

"Well could you give me some insight on what he's like? This is Matthew, isn't it?"

"Don't call him Matthew. He'll punch your d*** face in. It's either Matt or Mattie, depending on the person." Al thought for a minute. "Mattie's one motherf***** I wouldn't even mess with. He's f****** impossible to forget. Bother him the tiniest d*** bit and he'll mess you up. I would know, since I grew up with the ba*****. I bugged him for some attention once, next thing I know I'm missing four f****** teeth!"

My eyes grew a little wide.

"But I don't think you're the type who gets scared. Or are you?" he raised his eyebrows and looked me in the eyes.

"No! Of course not!" I lied. I kind of knew Al knew that I was lying. But who cares?

I was kind of nervous to stay with Matt. If the world of P2 is typically opposite of the normal world, then he wouldn't be like the Matthew I knew at all. He didn't even sound like Matthew anyways.

"Didn't think so." He chuckled. "But anyways, before I got so d*** off-track. I don't really know much more about Mattie. When we were growing up, we'd always beat the s*** out of each other. He was always the silent type…real strong. He has a f****** polar bear as a pet. It probably eats f****** people, too. Maybe it'll even eat you." Al said deviously, smirking.

This bear, Kumajirou, probably would eat me. So I would, in fact, meet my death, liked I'd thought I would before I came here. Wonderful.

"I'll tell it where your house is, so he can come get you too." I said. Al laughed.

"Didn't know you could speak polar bear." Al countered. I was silent, and a smirk soon appeared on Al's face.

I yawned, and almost simultaneously the big hand on the clock in Al's kitchen hit the eight.

"You can go change in the bathroom or something." Al said, nodding his head to the hallway. I stood up walked into the hallway.

The first door was Al's room, and it was by far the messiest room in the history of the world. There was a narrow path between all the magazines, car-parts, tissues, dishes, soda cans, nails, video tapes, and other trash that led to his bed.

The door diagonal-ways across from AL's bedroom was the bathroom…and the only neat room in the house. It was very small and really hard to move around in, but I managed. Al's clothes were extremely baggy on my small frame and I had to roll up the pants at least six times before they were at a good length.

I folded my clothes neatly and walked back into the kitchen, making sure not to step on anything as I came.

"You can find any f****** blanket or any d*** pillow anywhere around here. Living room is that way." Al said, pointing to a hallway across the room that led from the kitchen.

"Okey doke. Thanks." I paused and grinned at him before turning on my heel and walking towards the living room. "Night, b****."

"Right back at you." Al called.

Entering the living room was like entering a dungeon. A large flat screen TV sat on a scratched up oak dresser. In front of the dresser was a black futon and to the left of the futon was a black felt armchair. There were mostly magazines, CDs, DVDs, and video tapes lying around, along with some dishes. What made the room so dungeon like were the heavy black curtains draped over the windows and the unusual glow the light bulb above put off.

I dug around for the remote after finding a few pillows and a wrinkly, fluffy blanket in the dresser. Shoving my hand into the cushions of the armchair, I pulled out a number of random things, from popsicle sticks to coke tabs to spare change. Finally, after feeling a little disgusting, I found the remote under the futon. I turned on the TV, turned the volume down really low, dusted off the futon, and lay down. It wasn't the most comfortable thing I've ever slept on, but it wasn't the worst either. I mean, it was way better than a bathtub.

I lay on my stomach and wondered what it was like at home. Did anyone notice that I was missing? Did it even matter to them? The questions I had about home nearly at me alive, so I decided to think about the 'new' Matt I would meet soon.

Since Al had auburn hair, and Alfred actually has blonde, does that mean that Canada would have auburn hair, too? After all, they're both blonde and they're brothers. And what color would his eyes be? Mine went from blue to red, Al's went from blue to red…Matthew has blue eyes- so would Matt have red eyes, too? And his bear! Would Kumajirou try to eat me…?

Just before my eyes flickered closed, I heard the giggling of at least three girls. Oh, Al.

**A/N- **

**Me: Oh, Al...Why are those girls at your house?**

**Al: *flexes with bat full of nails* What was that?**

**Me: *Disappears***


End file.
